


It's Canon: #1248

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Charon, what they say, and what they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Canon: #1248

**Author's Note:**

> Steph and Rena have a Grimmons challenge going on to write how Grimmons would be canon and I answered the call.

This is what they say when they get off the ship.

A lot of insults. A ton of them really, all perfectly ready to go, because after so many years in each other’s company, they know the right way to tease, the right way to make fun that won’t leave anyone truly upset when the day is over. They ask about Sarge and his newly broken ankle (a Red team battle scar) about Lopez’s body which will need to be fully repaired once again. They gossip as Tucker and Wash hug each other in a way that makes their claim of “friends” laughable. When Grif’s sister calls, happy to hear her brother is alive, the screaming they make is part relief and part horror due to her telling of recent antics (sex filled as usual).

She asks how they’ve been. Not individually, together, the pair they are even though they’ve never really actually done much about it. It’s a hint really, well as close to a hint that Kai gets, and they ignore it like champs until later that night, after the battle high has vanished and the armor is off.

“Can’t believe were not fucking dead,” Grif says, helping Simmons with the screws in his shoulder. “Did you see that one bullet back there? Almost clipped my ear.”

“Not nearly as close as that knife. I thought I was gonna lose another arm.”

“Like you’d lose another arm without having the thought to give it to me.”

“Yeah, because you clearly need to ruin another one one of my organs, fatass.”

“Arms aren’t an organ. Didn’t they teach you that in geek school?”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“No I didn’t. How about you spell it out for me. Maybe make a power point?”

“Fuck you.”

Grif finishes tightening the last bolt in Simmons shoulder. The room feels a little heavier. Almost dying does that. It’s kind of sad, Grif thinks, how well he’s used to the feeling of possibly not making it back. “You know, we could have died.”

Simmons looks to him, human eye narrowing. “Sorry, I missed that when there was a crowd shooting at us.”

“Oh shut up.” Grif puts down the screw driver. What they’ve said since getting off the ship lingers in his brain, as it does in Simmons. Things spoken. Things not. Things like “ _I almost lost you_.”

They’ve always been such shit at saying what they really mean. 

“But you’re right though,” Simmons says at last, lips turning down. “Could have died. With Sarge and everyone.”

“Oh God, dying with Sarge.” Grif shudders. “Think we’d be ghosts together? Haunting shit.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Grif.”

“You can’t know that, you’ve never been dead.”

“Neither have you!”

Grif ignores that. He thinks floating around on that stupid shit, Sarge yelling at him forever. Could be worse. He’d have everyone else to hang out with. Could probably get good entertainment out of Tucker. And haunting Hargrove by moving all his hyper organized shit so it resembled a dick. 

His brains, for once, does not skip over the real reason he’d be able to tolerate that arrangement. Being a ghost wouldn’t be so bad, if Simmons were there to talk to.

“My sister might be right,” Grif blurts out, because it seems almost dying ruins the great internal censoring he has going. Simmons stares at him, eyes wide. “Bout-”

“I know what it’s about.” To Grif’s surprise, the squeak in Simmons voice isn’t actually that bad. Sure, there’s a flush on his cheeks, but he’s meeting him in the eye, and that’s what Grif calls progress, or maybe a minor miracle. 

“And what do you think?”

“Depends what you think.”

“I brought it up, what do you think I think?”

“I don’t know since you won’t tell me!”

They glare at each other for a long moment. Stuck in dancing around this stupid issue again, like they have for the last thirteen years. Grif considers backing up, recanting the whole thing, when he sees the blush spread to Simmons’ neck. It’s not an embarrassed blush. It’s a blush he can work with. It’s a blush that has an answer. 

Or so Grif hopes, because when he leans in for a kiss, it feels like more of a risk than standing his ground on Charon.

It’s only Simmons leaning in to meet it for a first kiss that is so awkward but good that is almost hurts, that he finally gets his answer. 

This is what they say when they get off Charon; too much and too little. This is what they don’t.

_“Bout time.”_


End file.
